


HOTEL 00 'Tis the Season

by BLUEFICTION2



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: HOTEL SERIES, Hawaii, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:07:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25569463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BLUEFICTION2/pseuds/BLUEFICTION2
Summary: HOTEL 00 is a 6 part comprehensive series that the follows the 0 series taking our boys into paradise, or more precisely, Hawaii for a very romantic holiday.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	1. HOTEL 00-1 Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Tim arrive in Hawaii for a long awaited vacation, oh hell, let's call it what it is - their honeymoon - to find Tim's sister and best friend have sent them a very interesting gift basket.

___

■ ☆ Disclaimer: this is a fictional depiction of the two actors (and other peripheral characters) mentioned within the following storyline  
__  
__

🎄 1. Paradise

🎄 December 22, 2019  
__  
__

⊙ Armie

Today will literally be the first time I've seen Tim in months. I know people overuse the word literally, but it really is a reunion of sorts -- in the flesh so to speak. The first time since the phone call that could have changed everything.  
__

I stand here amongst the masses waiting patiently for Tim to clear baggage claim and notice my sign.

His plane landed a short while ago and seeing him from a distance, tall and slender and so heartbreakingly beautiful that he takes my breath away, I have to admit the boy I once knew has become a man.

He looks wonderful, although tired, and by the expression on his face, cranky. He hates flying, but it's become a necessary evil when it comes to his career. So with a break in what seems like never ending press tours, a lull between engagements, he's got twelve glorious days to himself.

And we've got twelve glorious days together.  
__

Tim looks around, probably scoping out a taxi or shuttle; not seeing, or at least noticing me where I now hold up the cardboard I've tucked under my arm -- making sure it's visible above all the other's waiting for persons attached to the names scratched into their own signs.

A huge smile breaks out on his face and he now knows it's me hiding behind the long white beard and Santa cap.

His mouth opens, ready to call out my name before he remembers where we are, and who's watching.

Dropping his bags, he barrels towards me; not really giving a fuck if others notice, and I step away from the crowd to gather 'Elio' into my arms.

To say he's a hot mess would be an understatement.

But no one really cares as I wrap my arms around this beautiful boy, swinging him around as he rains kisses all over the accessible portions of my face.

There are several other Santas with similar signs milling around, greeting their own loved ones; so that the gorgeous young man sobbing into my arms, happy tears I hope, is not quite so noteworthy.

But loved, he is. I've got to admit that.

If this were LA, it would be a different story; we would have been hounded at the gate; but here, holding onto one so jubilant, well 'tis the season or some shit like that, and we're left pretty much alone.  
__

"Armie." Tim gasps through his tears.

"Yeah." Nodding, I can barely form words.

Tim isn't the only one misting up.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"Why? Because you're glad to see me?"

"Because I'm such a mess."

"A beautiful mess." I sigh, my face buried in his curls.

It's become quieter and as I look around I notice most of the passengers have already left the area.

"Let's get out of here."

Dropping the sign and the fake beard, I reach for his luggage, pulling it along behind us.

"Don't you want -" Tim points.

"Leave it."

"They're gonna show up on EBay like that disgusting puppet."

I look down at the crudely lettered sign, 'MY KING' and laugh, truly laugh; not that it's funny but I'm just so fucking glad he's here.

Escorting Tim out of the airport, one hand dragging his suitcase the other firmly clasped around his, we make our way into the hot sun which takes some getting used to, this heat in the winter, but it sure beats the alternative.  
__

Ensconced in the car, Tim is still weeping; his face, reddened by his crying, is nothing compared to the shaking that's taken over his body.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"I thought I'd never see you again."

He's such a drama queen!

"You're seeing me now." I remind him.

"No, not just that. Because of what I told you. You know I didn't mean to drive you away, but Brian -" He gulps, wiping more tears away with the back of his hands.

"Fucking Brian."

"Don't blame him." Tim is quick to defend. "But after all the interviews you had, saying there would never be another movie. I thought Elio was dead."

"You aren't Elio."

Yes he is. He'll always be my Elio. But he's Timmy too.

"I know." He sighs; still saddened by the way the new book had taken such a weird turn.

"Timmy, you're much more than that; so much more than him. You're not Elio anymore than I am Oliver."

"You don't want to be my Oliver?" He looks so crestfallen.

Oh fuck! I gather him against me. What can I say to that?  
__

"My beautiful hot mess -" I whisper into his curls.

"I'm sorry I'm blubbering."

I sit back, running the pads of my fingers over his cheeks to brush at the trail of tears that have spilled so copiously down his face.

"I -" He starts again.

"Shhh."

"I want to explain."

"There's no need. I think I know what's going on."

"Do you?" He taunts, smirking up at me.

He's got me there. I have no fucking idea what's going on in that beautiful head.

"I don't know why I do this." He straightens up in the seat. "I'm usually much more -- composed."

"Really?" I tease.

"Yeah, really." He challenges, daring me to prove him wrong.  
__  
__

Back in the hotel room that's become my base of operations since I've been here, I check out Tim taking in the vistas from the huge window overlooking the garden.

"Sure beats the view from my place." He sighs.

"Yeah, I don't think too many places can compete with this kind of paradise."

I wander around aimlessly, giving Timmy space because finally having here has thrown me for a loop. Not that I don't want him here but seeing him face to face will eventually bring up a conversation I don't want to have.

"What are these?" Tim points to the airline tickets on the table.

Shit. I meant to put those away.

"I had a prior commitment to be in Riyadh -"

"When?"

"This week."

"But you're here." He says.

"Nothing is more important than spending twelve uninterrupted days with you."

"Would you have been working?"

"There was compensation involved." I admit.

"So I cost you a job?"

Why the fuck is he going there?

"No." I lie.

"You're lying." He tells me.

Busted.

I shrug. "It doesn't matter. I'm here, you're here. That's all that matters."

And thinking back on the trip that wasn't, has me wondering if it was such a good idea in the first place.  
__

My ugly Christmas sweater is warm and frankly ugly, where I pull off the offending garment to toss it in the pile for housekeeping or the dump, and turn around to see Timmy watching me.

Closely.

He licks his lips, the look on his face washing away any doubts I've had in inviting him here.

But it's his smile that undoes me.

Not a happy to see you smile, but one that says he's ready to devour me, and you know I'm completely fine with that.

"Come here." He says, his voice low and gravelly.

Is he becoming Kyle? Interesting.

"Be gentle with me." I exclaim, bouncing backwards on the bed.

Tim raises an eyebrow, reaching down to yank my pants the rest of the way off.

He doesn't touch his own clothing, but lays down beside me, his fingers trailing through my chest hair.

Our eyes meet just as his fingers circle then attach themselves to my nipple.

Pulling.

Twisting.

The pain, yes pain, Tim is merciless that way, shakes me right down to the core; my eyes dilating as he continues the torment.

Tim is not cruel per se, nor is he gentle; you see with Tim it's a fine line between pleasure and pain, with pain being the main objective.

You would think pleasure would be paramount but Tim has learned, fuck, he mostly taught me everything he already knows about endorphins and the pleasure vortex.

Sadistic bastard.

That and the rope shit I taught him has made for very interesting play.

He pulls my tit straight out, his other hand holding me down when I try to move, and I know he wants me to settle down.

"Shhhh."

It's not a platitude but a warning.

"Do you want me to gag you?"

Yeah, a warning.

I shake my head, but my mind is screaming, "Yes please".  
__

Tim bends his head, attaching his mouth to my throat; his tongue licking my Adam's apple as I swallow deeply.

The hand that was pressing on my sternum moves downward to my stomach, then tugging gently, then not so gently at my pubic hair.

He pulls hard and I want to -- fuck screaming -- I want to bellow.

I'm being pulled in all directions, my tit, my cock, and the intense suction on my throat.

Which I know is 'gonna leave a mark'.

His mouth moves lower as his fingers release my tit; and with both hands circling my cock, Tim licks at my sore nipple, once, twice, and the fiery pain of such a genial touch has my cock standing at attention.

He knows what he's doing.  
__

I clear my throat and Tim looks up, a questioning look on his face.

NO, I didn't bring the clamps. And I want to further tell him NO, there are no clothes pins available.

But Tim is a resourceful lad, releasing my cock to grab my pants from the end of the bed.

He rips my belt through the loops, much like when we filmed the midnight scene, but there was no intent to hurt there.

Here is another matter entirely.

Straddles my thighs, Tim's hands reach up to clasp my hands together, hauling them over my head to grip the headboard.

He leans back, trailing the belt over my stomach, before grasping the buckle, winding the supple leather around his hand, ten inches of tongue, God that sounds sick, the only part protruding from the coil.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

He rains down vicious slaps with the leather; my chest, now a fiery red, has warmed up nicely as his concentration returns to my tits.

Stopping for a moment to use his index finger to circle, then flick the nip, before pinching tightly; my stomach muscles going taut as the pain radiates its way down to my cock.

Then it's back to the fucking tap, tap, tap.

He takes a break, dropping the fucking belt to move his hand to my neck, pressing so I have to breathe through my nose or choke. And even then.

His hand migrates to my mouth, the pad of his thumb caressing my bottom lip until I take the hint and open up.

"Suck." He tells me -- as if I need direction.

I pull hard on his thumb, my intention is getting him aroused enough to cut to the chase and fuck me.

He pulls his thumb out with a pop, examining the pinkness of his flesh as I have drawn the blood there.

I rather have drawn it elsewhere. But I digress.

Tim looks down as I grind up against him, and I can feel the soft fabric of the designer sweatpants he's taken to wearing, rubbing against my cock.

I then take in the measure of the belt on the bed beside me; twisted there like a dead snake, seeming innocuous, though venomous to be sure.  
__

With his thumb still dripping with saliva, Tim points down towards my dick, and the words that come to mind are -

"Oh fuck no!"

He's not hitting me -

There.

"I could if I wanted to." He tells me, and he's right. "You'd ask for it too."

And he's right again.

Tim rubs his spit coated thumb over my cock, concentrating on the head, his sharp nail grazing my piss-hole, making me rear up, my ass leaving the bed as he presses against me, a bead of pre-cum oozing around.

I groan loudly.

And he laughs.

Dismounting, Tim is all business as he grabs my leg, bending it a the knee to press it up against my chest, his other hand gripping my dick at the base, sliding up and down, my flesh riding his fist.

His mouth descends, hot breath tickling my dick before his tongue licks away any errant fluids. And then he begins to suck in earnest. His fist pumping me, my cock bumping against the back of his throat.

Ohhhh, God - that feels good.

It doesn't matter that he's not undressed, that he's the one in control. That I'm at his mercy. All that matters at this very moment is that we're here in this room and connecting the way we've always done; right from day one.

No apologies. No regrets. Just us.

And with both hands gripping the headboard, that fucking better be sturdy, my ass lifts up to accept the still slicked thumb that without any how do you do, enters my hole to steal away any resistance I may have at being the one under siege.

It's sensation overload, and there's no going back as I'm dragged towards the finish line.

And finally I do bellow, "Timmmmmm!"

Before everything goes black.  
__  
__

Le petite mort.

I groan, looking over to see Tim stretched out on his stomach, probably waiting for me to come back to life.

"I hope you're not too attached to those fancy joggers of yours." My voice is stronger now as I roll on top of him.

I know I could just peel them off, but tearing right through the material seems to be what I want. What I need.

Carpe diem.

Seize the day.

I rain heavy slaps down on his designer clad buttocks, not minding that I can't sees his perky butt, because shortly I'll be balls deep in that luscious ass.

Gripping both cheeks, I use my thumbs to tunnel into his crack.

Pressing, pressing.

Pulling the soft cloth apart to the point there's a slight tear in the seam, facilitating the process of destroying that cumbersome barrier to nirvana.

One thumb enters the torn fabric while my other hand pulls outward and now the gap is spread open. Two thumbs press inside, stretching, widening, and it rips apart, exposing his pink bum.

Leaning down, the fabric stretched wide, I spit into his hole, my middle finger pushing the slime deep inside.

And the similarities with Elio's peach seem undeniable.

I rather think my actions with his Thom Ford pants mimic what Tim went through, tearing into the fruit.

The exploration.

The intent.

The utter destruction to get to this goal.

I smile when my target is attained, because there is MY beautiful peach; Tim's perky butt, fully exposed through the torn portion of his sweatpants.  
__

Tim moans as I haul him up onto his hands and knees, covering him completely to slide inside.

He grunts gently as my cock tunnels deeper.

It's been awhile.

He's tight and warm. So warm.

My cock reads him like a book; how fast, how deep, and how to move into all his secret places I hope to keep to myself.  
__

"Ready?"

Tim nods.

I grab his shoulders, anchoring myself, anchoring him; because I now want to slap his butt, take the belt and beat him until he cums.

We haven't done that in awhile.

No we haven't.

Maybe later.

Because, right now, there's no place I'd rather be.

Paradise.  
___  
___

🎄 FIN - HOTEL 00-1 Chapter One - Paradise

___


	2. HOTEL 00-2 WATER - The Fucking Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacationing in Hawaii, Armie takes Tim on a sightseeing - sure we'll call it that - tour to the ocean.

__

■ HOTELSeries 00 'Tis the Season - 00-2 Water  
■ Chapter Two - WATER - The Fucking Conversation  
__  
__

I wake up, face down, completely immobilized, unable to move a muscle; the pressure on my upper back is generated by the heavily draped torso of a very warm and very much awake Armie.

My torn designer joggers and the carnal passage this resourceful man has engineered, has accepted his rampant cock not once but twice within as many hours, as it seems this new gateway has not become old or tired in any way. 

"What are you doing?"

"Admiring perfection."

"Fuck you."

"Says the boy who begged, yes fucking begged me to fuck him a second time."

"The first too, but I didn't say it out loud."

"I heard you anyway."

"And I'm not a boy." I remind him, "I'll be 24 in a few days. Oliver's age."

"Not boy. Boi. B.O.I." He spells it out before continuing, "And you think Oliver was mature?" 

"He was grown up."

"Not." Armie snorts. 

"Well we know how it ultimately ends."

"Took him 20 fucking years to mature enough and be the man he should have been in the first place. I wouldn't have waited that long. And if you think I'm waiting 20 fucking years to film a sequel, you're out of your fucking mind."

"I *fucking*", I stress the word, "don't think Luca will wait that long, he'll be really old, at least 65, when that happens."

"Are we really talking about our geriatric years while I've got my fingers in your ass?"

I smile into the bedding. He sounds so grumpy.

Cool air wafts through to my hole, and I shiver slightly; but heat of his digits pressing deeper inside quickly warm my flesh.

I try to hump my cock into the bed, rubbing ineffectively into the crusted mess I've made from coming, not once but twice, into the designer fabric, but Armie has other plans.

He moves off my body to flip me over onto my back (with an oomph) rolling me upward onto my shoulders, my legs pressed back and up, he moves his mouth to the tear in the fabric.

And his lips are there, kissing gently. His tongue now probing. 

Tasting. 

Us.

I squirm in his grasp, not getting any friction on my cock, not able to gain any control of my own desire.

It's all him.

What he's doing.

What he's planning on doing. 

Because, frankly, I know he's got a plan.  
__  
__

"Hey," I try to get his attention, "am I ever going to see the outside of your hotel room?"

Armie is up and marching around au natural; my preferred state if I have to be honest. 

"Yeah, I want to show you my ocean." 

He calls it his ocean, much like it was Elio's berm -- that became theirs and eventually ours.

I laugh when Armie swings his long arm towards the picture window -- his other appendage swinging as well. 

Paradise doesn't even come close to what this place is, and if it was ever so aptly named, it would be here. 

Although, as my mother has often reminded me, it's not the place, it's the people that make memories, make it special. Fucking wise woman.

But paradise has a price.  
__

"Sooo." Armie begins, "You want to tell me more about your strategy with Brian?" 

It had to be said. I guess, but when Armie gets all serious, starting sentences with a long drawn out, "sooo", it can't fucking be good.

"With the new movie coming out --" I start off weakly. 

"Remind me-- which one? The one where you're just royalty or the one where where you're royally fucked over?" 

"Armie--" 

I know where this is going and I don't want him to tear into me, or Brian, and say something horrible. 

"He-- We thought it would be better if I had no entanglements."

"He or we? Which was it?" I hate when he tries to trip me up. 

"I don't know Armie. It just happened."

That was also part of why Brian's plan seemed like a good idea at the time. Stop it now. Make it a clean break.

And between Armie spouting shit about no chance of a sequel, then taking off his ring, the one I gave him I might add; I didn't think he ever wanted to see me again, let alone fuck me through a rip in my clothing.

I'm not usually this melodramatic, okay sometimes, but hey, this is my life we're talking about. 

"So you decided to break us up over the fucking phone?" The tempered control in Armie's voice shows how livid he really is. 

"And you were photographed, in public", I continue, "without your ring. Our ring. The one I gave you."

"You're making this about me? I don't fucking think so!" Armie's almost bellowing now, his voice getting louder.

"But you're the one who took off my ring."

"I had to for a job." Sure he did.

"You've kept it on before." Fuck, I sound needy. "I mean, I don't know what I mean." 

Why did I have to bring this up? 

"I don't want to fight about this." I really don't. 

Armie sighs, "I don't want to fight either. But I've got to say, it hurt. It fucking hurt."

"You know I'd never want to do that to you, I'm sorry it happened."

Armie looks back at me, no longer staring out over paradise, "You don't have to promise me anything."

"But I did. We did." I insist.

"It wasn't official, there were no witnesses." No there wasn't. 

Good thing too, we were naked at the time.

"That doesn't make it any less." I say softly, standing behind to wrap my arms around his waist. "It makes it more. And I will never forget."

I kiss this shoulder, moving my hands up to splay over the broadness.

"You were going to take me swimming?" I mumble, still raining kisses over his back.

"Not swimming. Snorkeling. I want you to see what I see. Discover my ocean. Feel the water on your skin while you take in all the wonders under the sea."

Okay, that sounds like a Disney feature.

"And when the tide comes in I want you to feel the waves pounding your flesh while I pound you from the inside."

Oh fucking my.

I like the way he says things. There's usually a double entendre in there. Somewhere. Warm ocean, warm Armie. Fluids. I can get on board with that.

"I'd. Like. That." I say, kissing him between each word.

What else can I say? Pound me like the stallion you are? Or some such cheesy, romantic bullshit.

But Armie is still talking. "What!!!"

"Did you know," he repeats slowly as if addressing a child, "there are certain times you don't approach dolphins, especially during mating season? You could get pounded by quite another type randy cock."

Okay, he's not addressing a child.

"And you know this because?" Armie knows all kinds of shit.

"There's documented proof that dolphins will hump just about anything when they're in rut. And gay dolphins -- well you get the picture."

"What I'm picturing is you and me in the surf fucking our brains out. Other than that -- well that's really sick shit." I pause for a second, "And are you saying I have a dolphin's physique?"

"Smooth, athletic, hairless. Did I say hairless?"

I shake my curls at him.

"Oh yeah, the hair on your head will make all the difference in the world." Armie comes closer to kiss me. 

"So I guess you're safe." He whispers. 

I grab the first thing I can reach and wallop him with a pillow.

But he's big and fast and there's really no contest.  
__  
__

"I hope you brought more clothes than this." Armie holds up my destroyed joggers.

"They were just for the flight."

"Designer duds for paparazzi photos? No one saw you here."

"And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Well you won't be wearing these again." Armie says proudly, tossing the expensive garment into the bin.

Such a caveman he is!

He forgets who's often on the receiving end of things. But if it suits him to think that way, even in jest, then I'll give him that. Why the fuck should I mess with what works?

And believe me, it works just fine.  
__  
__

Armie has found a secluded spot where we can play and snorkel to our own delight. The water is clear and calm and the wildlife is so amazing.

It lets us be us. No distractions. No bullshit. Just the fish and the sea -- and thankfully no dolphins. Not that it worried me but if one was to appear, Armie would razz me about that for the rest of our vacation, maybe the rest of our lives.  
__  
__

Massive waves hit us, each one bigger and stronger than the last.

My arms, my legs, are wrapped around Armie; holding on as he pounds me from the inside.

It's raw and wonderful and I don't give a fuck if there are a million cameras on us.

But there's no one around while we're becoming one with the most elemental part of nature propelling us to strive for the freedom to fuck who and where we want, to tell the world to fuck off, mind their own business, and the most important thing happening at the moment -- to let go.

To just fucking let go.

And for the time being nothing else matters.

And 

Ohhhhh

My

God!

I don't think I can hold him any tighter; my body clenched around him --

Inside and out.

The groan that erupts from Armie is loud and resonant, almost turning into a howl that echoes through this extraordinary moment.

The reverberations digging just a little deeper into my heart; and I find my emotions at an all time high so that there's no fucking way I'm letting go any time soon.

We stand there, connected. 

Mind. 

Body. 

And soul.

And time stands still as the waves continue to pummel our bodies.  
___

■ FIN - HOTEL 'Tis the Season - Chapter 00-2 Water  
___


	3. HOTEL 00-3 FIRE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster hits as pictures of Armie's and Tim's soujourn to Lover's Beach hits the press.

__

■ ☆ Disclaimer: this is a fictional depiction of the two actors (and other peripheral characters) mentioned within the following storyline  
__

■ HOTEL 00-3 FIRE  
__

■ INFERNO  
__

We open our door to my phone ringing, Armie's phone ringing. Dueling ringtones that on any other day wouldn't be considered anything but normal.

But today.

Fuck! Today is not such a day.

There are messages, texts and --

Holy fuck!

Pictures.  
__

My publicist, who I have to remember works for me, is yelling in my ear; the urgency of her call, compounded by the aforementioned pictures makes for one pissed off lady.

Armie is fielding his own crisis management team and by the looks of it, they're just as pissed.  
__

I finally put down my phone, turning off the ringer to take a break before I check online.

Armie on the other hand, smashes his device into the wall; the IPhone bouncing to the floor where he picks it up, looks at it, exclaiming in his sardonic way, that like a Timex it takes a licking and keeps on keeping on.  
__

"How bad is it?" I ask, my voice is tentative at best.

"The whole world is fucked up."

That doesn't tell me much.

"What are we going to do?"

Armie laughs. "Nothing. Fucking nothing."

He sits down beside me on the couch, and setting his phone beside mine, leans forward to tenderly kiss my forehead, my cheeks, my lips.

"Don't worry about it. I'm not." He soothes. 

"Were the pictures bad?" It has to be asked.

"Beautiful. High quality photography at its finest. They must have been waiting because -"

"Why?" I breathe.

"They got us swimming as well as what happened later."

"My bare ass and everything?"

"Mostly my bare ass, but yes to everything."  
__

Brian is not as hysterical as my publicist, just a simple "I told you so", with a pinch of "stay put, don't fucking move" and an "I'll be there to get you out of this". 

As all this was in a text, there's no way to debate his strategy. 

"Call him." Armie says. "Tell him we've got it covered and not to come."

Whaaat! I want to exclaim, but this is a crucial moment.

"Armie, are -"

"Yes I'm sure. Call him."  
__

■ CONFLAGRATION  
__

"So we're not going to do anything?"

"Nope."

"And your team is fine with that?" They can't be.

"It's not up to them."

I don't say anything; the quiet summing up how unnerved I am by this.

"Look Timmy, they can spin it anyway they want but the pictures show what happened. We can't deny what is right before their eyes."

"You want to deny it?"

"Fuck no!"

"Then what -"

"I told you, we do nothing. No interviews, no statement, nothing. We do what we want, go where we want. And fuck anyone who says different."

"Brian's not happy." Did I say that out loud?

"You don't have to stay with him."

"Fire Brian?"

"If it comes to that, yes."

I give him a look that conveys my trepidation.

"He's not family, you can find someone else. Fuck Timmy, they'll be clambering over each other to represent you."

"I don't know."

"What? That they'll be killing each other to get to the golden boy? They will. And while we're at it," He continues, "we haven't heard a peep from your family."

"They love me and by extension you. My mother is probably trying to call, she won't be upset, but she will be concerned."  
__

■ LUMINOSITY  
__

I look over to the phones set side by side on the table.

Inanimate objects that they are, they have a personality. 

They are us. We are them.

I can still hear Armie when he first saw mine, "Timmy", was his voice always that loud, "your phone is fucking pink!" 

Actually that's not what he said. Not the first time.

"Interesting choice." 

That was it. 

But it was said in the totally irreverent dry tone he adopts when he's making a point and wants you to know how absurd he thinks you're being.

Anyway, our phones say a lot about us.

And what's on them is mostly indicative of who we are. 

Only now I'm not sure if I want to look at what's been posted online as I've seen enough by what was included in Brian's package.

Armie on the other hand, has cranked up his computer and is checking out everything he can find. The pictures, as he said, are high quality and particularly graphic.

He motions me to sit beside him, and grabbing a chair, I ready myself to be thoroughly humiliated. 

But they're beautiful. 

Extraordinarily graphic, sure, as we've been captured in all our naked glory.

Swimsuits abandoned on the beach, the camera has captured our love.

How could that be wrong?

Sure they're almost pornographic - okay they are - but Armie is helping me see the beauty that has been captured within every image.

He clicks on one that is a slightly different angle, and there we are.....

Fucking our brains out.

This one has me leaning back, Armie supporting me as wave's crash around us, my hair touching the surf, and the look on my face is one of pure ecstasy. 

This is how I felt knowing my love is reciprocated tenfold by the man I would give my life for.

Fuck denying, it's all there.  
__

■ SALVO  
__

With our paradise disturbed - fuck it - demolished - Armie has secured us another place to stay, an extension of the resort as the paparazzi or whoever took the pictures know where we are and will be waiting. 

The small island off the coastline is accessible by boat, and equipped with all the amenities we'll ever need. The move, done after nightfall, is very covert, with the hotel's security providing escort; and if we decide to go somewhere for the day, the helicopter that will transport us will return and take us wherever we need to go.

So while Armie's room will be held for him, the production he's working on is paying for the thing, we'll be on the island for the rest of my stay.

All the perks a high profile guest is entitled to. 

I know it's Armie's clout, and perhaps a bit of his ire - okay a lot of his ire, that has managed this but he insists it's also my fame that has a lot to do with the hotel bowing to our every whim. That, and they'll never admit to it, but they feel fucking guilty for allowing this to happen on their watch.  
__

■ CANNONADE  
__

With the helicopter lights disappearing into the distance, we are now quite alone; the day staff that will arrive by boat each morning to discreetly tend to the house and grounds, will leave us pretty much to ourselves. 

And with that, Armie is almost giddy with anticipation of all the weird shit he's been dying to drag out. And by weird shit, I mean drugs, sex and rock n roll, although I've got to ask him about that freaky assed rap he's been tweeting lately. 

But not now. 

Now is for all the carnal pleasures he's got planned. And possibly more drugs. Yeah, definitely more drugs.  
__

Leaning on one elbow, Armie's gaze burns hot in the firelight. The bonfire glows molten in the blackness of the shrouded sky where the absence of twinkling stars mark a turbulent atmosphere indicative of a storm brewing. 

"Another midnight." I breathe. 

I feel almost the same as Elio had on that very first night. Not that we haven't had tons of sex, but this place is different. I don't believe we've ever been this isolated.

"Can I kiss you?" Armie asks.

And I'm nineteen again getting a first look at his headshots Luca has sent me. 

And I knew then. 

Fuck. I knew right then.

I wanted it to be him.  
__ 

Armie's breath tickles my neck as he leans forward, his hands running down my naked body to roll me over, his longer body covering mine. 

Face down on the soft blanket, I spread myself wide. 

Waiting.  
__

■ COMBUSTION  
__

Armie, no longer temperate in his attentions becomes rough as he grips me at the waist, pulling me upward onto my knees.

I try to spread my legs but his stronger ones bracket mine, holding me immobile as he spits into his hand, slicking his cock. And it's just as turbulent a coupling as the sky around us.

I try to absorb his proportions but with every stroke he consumes me just a little bit more. 

The ferocity of his fucking has me scrambling to stay upright. 

But he anchors me - one unyielding hand at my waist, the other tunnelling into my hair.

Pulling.

Fucking -

Pulling.

My neck stretched, my chest heaving, my cock is ready to explode as he touches me in places he hasn't touched in a very long time.

He feels so hot, molten as the fire that warms our bodies; rocketing our passion to new highs.

And to say I'm ready to explode would not be an exaggeration. 

I cry out into the darkness and I swear, I fucking swear I can feel the storm coming upon us.

Lightening flashes in the sky as fireworks go off inside my body. And a great crash of thunder covers Armie's bellow when he shoots inside me.

As heavy rain now plummets down onto our bodies, Armie pulls my head back for a kiss that matches, fuck, obliterates anything Toby McGuire ever could have portrayed. Spiderman has nothing on Armie.

And this ferocity we have, wonderful that it is, guts me.

It fucking takes away everything I've ever known, and anything I've ever had is incinerated by his touch.

It's disconcerting at best.

I'm no longer me. 

It's more than each of us, more than both of us combined.

It's transformative and not something I've ever had with anyone else.

This is us. And fuck all those who judge.  
___  
___

■ FIN - HOTEL SERIES - 'Tis the Season 00-3 FIRE  
___


	4. HOTEL 00-4 AIR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Tim continue their vacation in Paradise with a very special trip that takes Tim's breath away.

■ ☆ Disclaimer: this is a fictional depiction of the two actors (and other peripheral characters) mentioned within the following storyline  
__  
__

■ HOTEL Series 00 'Tis the Season 00-4 AIR  
__  
__

■ BREATH  
__ 

"This is nice." Stretching, I slide my body closer to his. 

"Mmmm?" Armie mumbles into his pillow.

He hasn't moved a muscle since he passed out six hours ago and I don't think he's ever slept so soundly; certainly not beside me. 

"This." I punctuate the word with a kiss to his shoulder.

"Is." Another kiss, this time to his neck.

"Nice." He opens his mouth to accept my tongue, rolling our bodies to pull me over top.

My hands reach up to cup his face, so ruggedly handsome that the slight abrasion from his morning growth of whiskers becomes the last thing on my mind. 

"Morning wood." He chuckles, pulling me closer as I unabashedly grind my cock against him.

"We -" Does he mean the royal WE, "can take care of that." Armie continues, manoeuvring me over to the other side, bending forward to taste.

"Ahhhh."

I want to tell him how much securing these extravagant digs means to me, but what his mouth is doing to my cock supersedes any further conversation.

Much like last night when I wanted to tell him how completely devastated I was while we were apart and that I would never do it again. 

But my body does that for me. 

He knows.... right? He's got to.  
__  
__

I'm still reeling from the intensely full feeling of Armie's cock rearranging my colon. The tenderness he demonstrates when his tongue laps at the ribbon of cum spattered across my stomach, is still nothing short of mind-blowing. 

The emotional turbulence of the difficult journey we've been on dissipates every time his body enters mine. 

Fights, schedules, droughts, more fights, another drought (his, this time), agents, family obligations, and my abject poor judgement of our situation that almost ended it all.

But nothing matters when he's sucking me off. Or pounding his battle ram of a cock into my asshole. Or even for that matter, simply sleeping beside me.  
__

■ PURIFICATION  
__

"You were saying?" Armie prompts. 

I lie there, satiated, and frankly too over-stimulated to move.

"Nothing important. Just that this place is amazing."

Why am I backtracking? There's no reason for it. Nothing has happened to change anything. 

"I live to serve." Armie says sardonically before wandering out onto the deck. 

My gaze lands on the nightstand as I take in our iPhones tilted against each other like two soldiers in repose, waiting for the call to duty but too battle worn to fight. 

It's different not checking our devices, but it's a dead zone anyway and part of why we're here; this small private island off the coast of Hawaii that we're making our own; for the time being anyway.  
__

Following Armie onto the deck, I gaze towards the shore where just last night we were fucking under the obsidian sky; and where the brewing storm then turned violent. 

And as the rain plummeted down upon us, wonderful and freeing, it changed exponentially, causing us to race for cover as it became less wonderful and more of a hazard. 

Our voices swallowed up by the wind and the rain, we scrambled over each other, our bare feet and naked bodies picking up sand as we bolted towards safety. 

"Home. Sweet. Home." Armie announced between gasps as we escaped into the rugged outdoor shower; fed by the rain barrels on the roof, it rinsed our bodies while we decided how and where we were to weather out the rest of the storm.  
__

"I think I still have sand in unmentionable places." I proclaimed as we entered our bedroom, leaning side by side against the heavy door.

"Nothing is unmentionable to you." Armie laughed. "And it's a small price to pay for being somewhere those hacks can't find us."

I didn't want to think about it, or even speculate; and not having anything further to say, left the ball in Armie's court.

We're here; alone; and suddenly can't carry on a conversation. 

Small talk is not Armie's forte; and I had to wonder if we're going to just fuck and perhaps sleep the entire time we're here. 

Not that it's such a bad thing.  
__

Grabbing covers off the bed, I watched as Armie lit the kindling in the fireplace; his skin glowing in the firelight; flecks of gold and bronze mapping strong shoulders that flexed impressively as he set a spare log on the hearth. 

I made room for his long body to lie beside mine, the fire warming us, the storm forgotten in our haste to rekindle what we had started on the beach.  
__

We fucked and slept and at some point between midnight and dawn, abandoned the floor for a much more comfortable mattress. 

__

■ OXYGEN  
__

And this is where we wake up, hours later, without any apprehension of photographers poking their long lenses into our island refuge.

Not sure of what is expected of us, expected of me, I stare past Armie into the tranquil seascape, my mind numbed to the consequences of our stay. 

Usually, we're running on a schedule, each of us with commitments; people to see, places to be. But not today. Not here with no one around to disturb us.  
__

"Brian must be going nuts." I sigh, turning to butt my head against the soft fur on his chest.

"You're worried about him and not your mother?" Armie tips my chin up to gaze into my eyes.

"She knows I'm with you and is fine with it. Brian knows too and is not."

"Yeah, mothers like me, agents not so much." He kisses me lightly on the lips.

"He thinks you're a bad influence."

"He doesn't know the half of it." Armie laughs, somehow that knowledge delighting him to no end as he gathers me in so close that I can no longer stare into his beautiful face.

"So Gidget, what do you want to do today?" He sighs, his breath teasing my hair.

The Gidget reference stings but I choose to play along.

"I can't believe you're referencing a 60 year old movie." 

"My mother's a sucker for antiquated cinema." Armie's hand inches lower. 

I really don't want to hear about his mother's film preferences while he stands there, his fist encircling my cock, slowly rubbing as my dick grows in his hand. 

Two can play this game, "I've only seen it on retro TV, the one with Sally Field." I tell him. "My mother's influence too, as I was growing up."

Armie nods, not really caring what my mother, or his for that matter, forced us to watch while we were impressionable children.

__

Breakfast is laid out on one of the tables gracing the patio just off the kitchen. 

Coffee, blessed coffee. And bagels. The man knows me. 

A large bowl of cut up fruit, centers the arrangement as a very reserved gentleman offers Armie a disgusting concoction in a tall glass.

"None for me?" I ask.

"Not repeating last time when you spat it out all over me."

"I wasn't aiming for you. It just happened."

"Well it's not happening again." Armie chugs the vile stuff down in two huge gulps.

He can have it. Who's to quibble if it gives him that impressive body?

"We're taking a trip this afternoon." He says out of the blue.

"We just got here. Are you tired of me already?"

"Not tired at all, but this trip is special." His eyes are twinkling, if that's even possible. 

So now he's piqued my imagination, we could be going anywhere; I just hope those fucking photographers can't follow us.

__

■ LIFT  
__

The giant balloon rises high over the mountain range and there it is, the volcano; quiet now, but its fury still evident in the rivers of lava that have carved molten tracts towards the ocean. 

Magnificent, yes, but the devastation is still evident even now and is a sad and resonant reminder of what nature can destroy.

I love Armie for showing me, and tell him so as our basket descends towards an open area.

"Is he leaving us here?" I ask, breathless after all we've seen.

"For an hour, to have lunch and see the sights."

I'm not sure what sights he means but I'm okay with that.  
__

Our guide pilots the craft away, and we are left alone with our gourmet meal and champagne; as this valley, still hidden by the mountains, becomes our very own secret hideaway. 

__

■ HEAVEN  
__

"More bubbly?" Armie is the consummate host, even if we are in the middle of nowhere and slightly tipsy to boot.

"This is wonderful." I tell him. "All of this, this -" I swallow, the huge lump in my throat preventing me from going on.

"Yeah." He nods as he refills my glass.

"Do we have time to -"

"Look around? Sure."

"That wasn't what I was asking."

"I know." Armie responds in a knowing and rather condescending manner.

But there's nothing rushed as his hand migrates to my zipper.

"Am I offending you?" He laughs, happy that the shoe is on the other foot, or rather the hand is on the other cock.

"Here", he continues, putting my own hand over him.

He keeps his hand over mine, moving my fingers to cup his bulge, then trailing over towards his pocket.

There's something in there.

"Is that a box in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" I paraphrase. 

"Both." Armie laughs.

Part of me wants to ignore his pocket and head back to his impressive erection, but the other more inquisitive part takes over and my fingers tunnel towards the box.

"Oh." I sigh. 

I'm overwhelmed and speechless and galloping towards weepy. 

"You bought me one." Armie says, opening the stirling box. "It's high time I returned the favour."

"It's beautiful." 

It is.

But more than that, what does this mean?

___  
___

■ FIN - HOTEL 00-4 AIR  
___


	5. HOTEL 00-5 VOID

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie and Tim play with some of the toys from their gift basket where Armie has a gut wrenching experience and the boys have a serious breakdown in communication.

__

■ ☆ Disclaimer: this is a fictional depiction of the two actors (and other peripheral characters) mentioned within the following storyline  
__  
__

■ 00-5 VOID - Part 1 - Tim  
__

■ COLD  
__

Armie shivers as I run the cold towel over his body, starting at his neck, over his broad shoulders and equally impressive back, sliding around to his chest.

He's stoic under my touch, a silent reminder of how much he loves me; and with his endorphins flying so manically, it's obvious he's getting off on this as well.  
__

I want to kiss him but won't - can't.  
__

Dunking the towel back in the pail, I let it absorb more of the ice water before wringing it out to begin the process once again.

Neck, shoulders, back and chest.

To make the procedure more palatable, I break my resolve to cup his genitals.

He tries to cry out but the plug in his mouth is restrictive.

"Shhh." I admonish, sliding my warm hand around his cock.

Remembering to breathe through his nose, he's immediately able to relax - okay I guess that's a relative term - and enjoy the ride.

That he's the main event is not lost on him.  
__

■ FREE  
__

"Morning beautiful."

"Hey, you got up before me."

"What do you want to do this fine morning?" His smile is contagious.

Who am I to quibble if it's closer to afternoon, and of course he's going to let me pick whatever we do - it's my day, December 27th.  
__

It's quiet, the staff are here but for a few hours each day and are so discreet, the running of the house has become autonomous; so essentially we are basically alone.

And in being that, we've elected not to wear any cumbersome garments - or actually anything at all.

Something we never could have done back at the hotel. And something I never knew I would have enjoyed so much until we got here.

Nude Armie 24/7.

And nobody's going to flood the internet with his naked ass, or mine for that matter.  
__

"Well?" Armie prompts.

"Fucking well what? Where's my present?" Petulant is my name.

"Greedy boy." Armie is still smiling.

But I'm starting to realize the extravagant balloon ride from a few days ago might have been it.

"I'm twenty-four. I haven't been a boy in a long time."

I'm learning to be more assertive around him, because as much as I enjoy his teasing - he's got to see me differently from seventeen year old Elio, but then he'll always be my Oliver.

"I'm old enough to best you. And you like it." I remind him, hoping he gets the hint.

"Okay." He whispers.

"Really? Okay, really?" OMFG really!

And suddenly I'm a twelve year old girl.

"I'm putting myself in your capable hands." Armie spreads his arms in mock surrender.

"I can do anything?" I'm practically hyperventilating.

"Within reason." Armie qualifies.

"No. It's my day and you can't start it off by putting limits on this shit."

Armie hides his head so I can't see his expression, and I'm not sure if he's admitting defeat or he's laughing at me.  
__

While this all began earlier today, whatever followed was - how did he put it - oh yeah, my present.

Armie has gifted himself.

I get up to admire his naked form, slapping his ass on the way, as I circle to get a better look at my bounty.

"We'll see who's laughing at the end of this; because it won't be you big boy."

"Boi? You want to go there?"

I nod.

Oh fuck. There are so many possibilities.

"Okay then. I guess this calls for a good cleaning out." Armie sighs as if it's a burden for him to bottom.

But from my experience, he fucking gets off on it.

__

■ CLEAN  
__

The indoor shower is situated next door in the satellite bungalow beside the gym; and it is there where we begin.

Inserting the nozzle into his hole, Armie fumbles on his knees; it fills him up past the point that is comfortable, and as I deploy the air bladder, it's truly set.

"How long?" I ask, letting him set the perimeters.

"Somewhere between me puking my guts out and passing out on this expensively tiled floor."

Good. He still has his sense of humour.  
__

His stomach distended, and from past personal experience, and if recall correctly, churning to the point of nausea, Armie takes it like a man.

While the plan was to let Armie set his own limit on this, asking him when he wanted to *tap out* suddenly becomes a challenge to his mettle and I would never put him on the spot like that.

As he is obviously struggling, the only answer is to go ahead and deflate the balloon, remove the nozzle, let the water evacuate.

Armie's dignity retained, relieved of his burden, he has become less than cordial about the whole process.

The look I get in response to this kindness is something we're going to have to talk about - later.  
__

Pushing him face down on the shower floor, my mouth is immediately on him, my body straddling his where I can hold his cheeks apart to shove my tongue so deeply inside I'm not just licking him but fucking his asshole.

He moans beneath me, humping his ass up to meet my thrusts.

Crawling off, I get him to his knees, my cock soon ramming into his hole; pushing so deeply inside on the first thrust, I thought I'd died and gone to piggy heaven.

And the fucking, oh my God... the fucking ..

Is rough and ineloquent.

Primal to the extreme.

We resemble wild animals in our fierceness to best the other.

To get off first.

To remain on top.  
__

And that now brings us to his current predicament.  
__

■ SPACE  
__

Running the back of my hand against his cold flesh, I then trace my fingertips over goose bumps, faint bruising and scratches that are all quickly fading from sight.

I kiss around his eyes, beside his mouth, moving my lips down his throat, his chest, his belly, stopping to give specific attention to his cock.

It's been neglected of late and is begging for attention.  
__

This sensory deprivation has him far more alert and conscious of every touch, every whisper -

Every kiss. Every lick. Every flick. Every swallow.

My breath on his groin alone has Armie straining up on his toes, endeavoring to push himself further inside my oral cavity as my hands grip his thighs to quiet him; making sure he doesn't succeed in taking control.

His body is cool to the touch while his cock, thick and heavy, heats up in my mouth.

He bumps the back of my throat and I swallow around his cock, taking it as far as I can. Then a little bit more.

Armie tenses, his arms straining, the metal chain holding the cuffs to the suspended pull-up bar is not at all taut, allowing for some movement. Just not very much.

And I hold him steady as his knees bend -

Trying to push his cock deeper.

My hands splaying on his ass, kneading his cheeks -

Migrating around to his hole as my two middle fingers approach from either side, pressing deeply, just there.

Armie elicits a tortured groan behind the gag; and when he cums, his cock is so far down my throat, I barely taste a thing.  
__

■ DISSOLVE  
__

Standing up, I remove the inflatable gag; unbuckling, pulling it out gently, his saliva coating the rubber plug; strings of slime clinging to his mouth as he works his jaw to relieve the stiffness.

He's the one who's beautiful.

So much so that I'm compelled to press my mouth to his; my tongue mapping his lips, his tongue; trying to absorb all of him.

My fingers trace the edges of the mask; then move to push the supple leather tongue through the small buckle.

And when it's removed, I kiss his eyelids as well.  
__

Rounding Armie's body, I run my hands down his taut arms, over his shoulders to wrap around his chest.

His legs splayed, my cock bumps at his hole to easily find its way inside.

It's like a fucking beacon. "Here I am. You will be safe here."

Armie sighs.

I raise my arms to hold onto his cuffs as I begin a motion as old as time; gently sawing my cock into his body before, again, taking on a more primitive form of fucking.

Hard.

And wild.

With no inhibitions. No limits. Just us.

My own body tensing along with his as I cum, shooting up his hole in great wracking spurts that scald us both.

I'm still inside his body; not yet sure, but ever optimistic of having a second, go.  
__

■ EMPTY  
__

"Why do you like this so much, who showed you the shit with ropes?" I gasp, resting against him, my mouth to his neck; my cock still bumping his hole.

Why did I ask that? He's never talked about this before. Ever. I'm curious, but also not really sure if I want to know the answer.

Armie tenses in my arms.

"Untie me." His voice is low, still hoarse from the gag.

"What did I do?"

"Fucking get me down." He demands. "Now."

My dick slides out of his ass, confused as to why everything has changed so quickly.

Scrambling with the cuffs, I don't bother unhooking the clips but fumble with the buckles to release his wrists.

"You don't get to ask me that." He says rounding on me. "Not when you've got me fucking tied up. Not when you've got your dick in my ass. Not when you're fucking ME." Armie stares daggers that I feel right down to my soul. "I don't need an inquisition and you don't get to bring up any of that shit. Not now."

I stand there dumb-founded, my arms wrapped around my own body like I'm trying to do the Heimlich.

I fucking feel like I need it.  
__

"Armie -" I venture.

"What is with you? Are you trying to be a dom, the big man here?" He's livid. "You're too delicate for this shit, and it's particularly small of you to even bring this up." I wonder when he's got so nasty.

Oh Armie.

I'm struck down. Empty. I can't even form words to defend myself.  
__

■ NOTHINGNESS  
__

Armie comes in hours later to sit on the bed, my refuge, where I'm curled up, almost fetal, certainly protecting everything that is vital to me.

He's dressed. The first time since we got here.

Do I tell him I'm sorry even if I'm not sure what I've done? I did that earlier and it fell on deaf ears.

But he seems calmer now, that's good.

I reach out to him where he clears his throat before taking my hand.

"I gave you my ring, this ring", he taps the platinum band, "and you accepted it. I thought it would make you happy. I did it to make you happy."

"I am." I insist.

"But is that it with us? Do you want more? Do you need more -" It's like he hasn't even heard me.

"I don't. I do."

"Well which is it?"

Armie's eyes bore into me. It seems he wants an answer right now, but I don't like being put on the spot like this.

"I will not be Britney Spears." I say at last; something I'm absolutely sure about.

"Who?"

"Britney Spears. They were -"

"Married fifty-five fucking hours. Is that what you're giving us?" Armie sounds almost sad. "You think putting our love and dedication on a fucking piece of paper will change how we feel about each other? Do you think I'm that SHALLOW?"

Armie has got up to pace beside the bed, his voice straining on each word, getting stronger as he builds up steam.

Fuck he can get loud.

I put my hands over my ears; partially to calm myself, partially to keep his words from breaking my heart.

I turn my back to him, blocking him from seeing my face, because if there's one thing that will break me right now is having him see me cry.  
__

■ ABYSS  
__

It's dawn when I wake up; with Armie nowhere to be found.

Walking outside onto the deck, I look towards the ocean, and finding the rising sun beautiful on the water, I pull on my jeans and t-shirt to take a stroll along the shoreline.

I don't want to make too much of the situation but something's going on with the big guy. He doesn't usually fly off the handle like this.

He'll calm down, things will get back to normal.

Sliding the ring off my finger, I run it between my thumb and forefinger; it's beautiful. Understated but beautiful.

I put it on my other hand, then move it back, changing fingers.

I love it. I love him.

It's everything I ever wanted. Armie is everything I ever wanted.

So why the fuck am I out here, wandering a lonely beach while Armie is MIA?  
__

And then it happened.

I don't know how or even when.

But when I next look down at my hand,

The ring is gone.  
__  
__

■ VOID - Part 2 - Armie  
__

■ FREEDOM

__

"Morning beautiful." Today is the lad's birthday, and with being stuck here on the island, my gift giving options are pretty limited. 

So when he hints at topping me, there's only one right answer. The easy answer. 

Fuck yes!

He's got to know it doesn't have to be his birthday for him to ask; we reciprocate all the time but actually doing a BDSM scene is different; there's forethought, discussion, preparation, and of course the prerequisite props. 

And a certain level of decorum to be had. Then there are guidelines for protocol and etiquette that he seems to have forgotten. Or maybe he just never knew them in the first place.

But we'll get to that later. 

He must know I never bottom for anyone else; or haven't in a very long time. We were never each other's first. Well I was his but he wasn't mine. Not with as many years as I have on him. 

He'd had 'experiences' sure, but you can bet your bottom dollar I was the first to have my dick up his ass. 

And I like it very much that I was the first.

But I digress, because you see, it was him.

He came onto me, (says the man who couldn't wait a fucking hour to meet him but instead rushed right over to interrupt his piano lesson). 

Then there was that very first day in the back yard of the villa; Luca left us (sure that's how the story went) but we noticed and kept on with it anyway. I don't have to tell you Tim had his hand on my dick long before the scene on the Berm.

And I was fucking hard in that hand too. (That time in the backyard.) 

Well the time on the Berm too, and everytime in between, and thereafter.

I was hard as soon as I saw his beautiful face, and his equally beautiful body, weeks before we ever started shooting.

How does that corny song go? 'If I told you you had a beautiful body would you hold it against me?'

Well I wanted him against me right from the beginning. 

Day one.

There wasn't any artifice involved; it was just as fucking real as it appeared on film.

And I would have done it, fuck everything, for nothing. 

Being in a state of arousal every moment I was around him was just a bonus.  
__

■ EMPTINESS   
__

So I was feeling the shame of a true sub, regretting even the idea of letting him be in control of my bathroom ordeal (and that subsequent loss of control), because it was of not only my bowels but of the situation as well. 

And right from the moment he removed the device in my asshole, things changed (I was struggling, sure), but he didn't have to see it and he fucking didn't have to take pity on me in releasing the balloon before I was ready. 

But a sub doesn't argue. He doesn't have anything to bitch about when he's consensually given up control. It's not his call.

And it's not something to safe-word over either.

But it still stings; having him see me in a weakened moment; where you'd think I had never been trained and believe me, I'd been trained.

And that too is something he doesn't know, or need to know about.  
__

But then he was on me, pushing me to the floor, climbing on my back to dive face first between my buttocks, flicking his tongue into me.

Pulling me up on my knees on that fucking hard floor to slide inside like he was slicing into butter; the lube, and aforementioned cleaning, making for an easy entry.

And suddenly we were fucking like dogs in heat, or those horny monkeys; those Bonobos they show on Animal Planet. 

Everywhere. 

Hard. 

Indiscriminate. Humping in every orifice. Many times over. 

Tim was jack-hammering into me, his balls slapping up against my ass; and I was loving it like I was, how did he put it, 'in piggy heaven'.

His hands were digging into my back, my shoulders, chest, waist; his strong fingers tunneling into my flesh; and I knew then they are going to leave marks, but in the heat of the moment I didn't give a flying fuck.

It was somehow liberating, not having to think about anything; to revel in the moment and all the euphoric sensations only an intense power fuck can give you.  
__

And after. Fucking after -

When he got the brilliant idea to cool me down in that every restrictive and masterful way - 

Well maybe not the very most masterful, but I've got to admit he's doing okay for someone not as well versed in these things as I am.  
__

And then his mouth, latching onto my cock brought me back to my teenage years watching stolen videos of back room whores (not that he in any way is one, it's just a memory), that could make a man cum over and over again without touching anything but his dick.

So because I can't see him at all, it's only by feel that I have any kind of connection. 

Well, sound and smell too.

Our bodies have become ripe after our animal orgy in the shower, and afterwards when he strung me up, kissing, licking me from armpit to wrist as he stretched out each arm.

It was sensory overload then, as well as later when I was set and secured with the mask and gag in place, and he applied the ice cold towel to, as he said, 'cool' me down.

And now with my body sufficiently tempered, the heat of his mouth scalds me.

Not in a bad way, because I can feel the blood coursing through my veins, building up in my cock to the point where no thoughts can form and pure primal instinct takes over.

And the feralness of the moment surrounds us.  
__

But then he kills the fucking mood.

I don't want to tell him anything. 

Not about that. Not then. And certainly not during a scene.

It's one thing to have a discussion about past experiences --

But not with his dick up my ass.

It's rather like eliciting a promise during sex. 

Bad idea. 

Bad form. 

Just fucking bad.  
__

By then the mood and everything else is broken and my first reaction was to get angry; because frankly I'm pissed.

So I tell him to stop right now. And fucking get me down from the cuffs.   
__

■ NOTHINGNESS   
__

I face him down, telling him what a shit he is, but not really meaning it because he just didn't know. And if he did, then he really is a shit.

But it's just because it brings back so many memories I thought I'd forgotten; some not so pleasant times, and obviously some pleasant ones too, where I kept on going back because I wanted to learn. 

And how else do you learn but by trying the fucking thing out.

You don't learn how to Dom without being a sub first. Well some do, but the good ones have to know the consequences of what their enflicting.

You experience shit to get better at what you do.

And you don't fucking ask personal questions during it.

And I wasn't then, nor am I ever, going to bare my soul while I've got a dick in my ass!

He's got to fucking know that.

And he can't say it just slipped out (But he did say that) -

Because a whole fucking sentence doesn't just slip out.   
__

I'm fuming over his little accident, because that's exactly what he said, "it was an accident", but I'm not buying it.

You accidently fall down a set of stairs, you don't accidently ask a person, while you're fucking them I might add, about past sexual experiences.  
__  
__

I find him later that evening curled up in bed; his tear stained face showing how truly devastated he is, and it breaks me.

It tears my heart out knowing I can still, after all this time, make him cry, and I feel like a shit for doing it.

But then I see he's moved the ring to his other hand; not the one I put it on but his left hand.

Was it something subconscious or is he trying to tell me something?

I ask him if he wants more and feel my heart banging in my chest when he hesitates, waffles really, "I don't. I do." He says.

"So which is it?" 

Well does he or doesn't he want to make it 'official'.

I originally gave him the ring to show my love; not realizing I'd signed up for the ball and chain that making it official means.

Then he brings up Britney.

Britney Spears. 

Fuck.

Not going there, and I know he doesn't think we'll crash and burn as quickly as the 'Oops I did it again' girl, but just the thought of Tim comparing us, is enough to set me off.

And when he turns his back and ignores me, I've had enough and have to leave the room.  
__

Actually leave the island. But not because of him.

___

■ FIN - HOTEL 00-5 VOID   
___


	6. HOTEL 00-6 EARTH

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim tries to regain something he's lost and Armie surprises him with something found.

___

■ ☆ Disclaimer: this is a fictional depiction of the two actors (and other peripheral characters) mentioned within the following storyline  
___  
___

■ EARTH  
___

■ SAND  
__

Scrambling on my hands and knees, my scrapings fill up with water every time my fingers tunnel into the sand; making the fight to beat the approaching surf - and the hunt - all that more difficult.

But I have to find it. 

I must find it.

My life depends on it.

Our lives depend on it.  
__

■ SHORE  
__

The motor launch slides into the dock, where low voices of the staff can be heard as the engine cuts out.

I'm never outside this time of day, we're usually still in our room while the meals are delivered, rooms tidied up, towels and dishes removed and replaced; shit that we're barely aware of.

But this morning, as early as it is, I'm dressed and outside on the fucking beach, digging in the moist sand, looking for my ring.  
__

"Fancy meeting you here." Armie's voice startles me.

"I didn't hear you come up--" I pause for effect. "--or leave." Where I hurriedly get to my feet because there's no fucking way I'm having this conversation while I'm kneeling in the sand.

"Emergency trip, but I'm back." 

"You didn't leave a note." My tone sits somewhere between a question and a statement.

Does he really owe me an explanation? Fuck yes. 

Armie shrugs but he does look a bit sheepish in leaving without saying a word.

With hands clasped behind my back, I'm striking an unusual pose even for myself, so I give up the charade, bringing my arms forward.

The motion is so deliberate that it has Armie looking at my hands perplexed as to what's going on. Then it dawns on him.

"You're not wearing it?" He asks. 

It's my turn to shrug; what else can I do?

"Listen if you want us to go public -- you might as well wear the ring I gave you." He says tapping his own.

How can I tell him? What do I tell him? 

He's got to know I want to wear his ring, more than anything. 

"I -" 

But Armie cuts me off. 

"Timmy, I have no issue wearing mine, so what the fuck is making you hesitate on this? You were eager yesterday."

"I'm not hesitating. I'm not." Oh my God, this is so hard.

"It fucking sure looks like it. And if you're thinking about any supposed ramifications, just remember I've put my whole fucking career at stake."

"The ramifications are real." I insist. 

People kind of know about him but I'm still, thanks to my management team, pretty much a mystery. And it's not coming out that worries me, it's being pigeonholed by the press into a fucking relationship. Off the market so to speak. There's going to be fallout.

A carnival show for the masses that's going to make Brian go ballistic. 

But Armie's on a roll, "It's fucking 2020! Not 1983. Get your head out of your ass and realise people don't give a shit where you put your dick."

I'm so glad I'm standing for this as the urge to smack him takes over, which is probably a good thing because I've almost forgotten about the drama surrounding my ring.

"You know I don't care about that." I tell him. "But fandom always makes more of shit, twists things around, so we'll be hounded, hunted like fucking animals until there's nothing left of us to bother with."

This makes sense. 

This is what the reality is.

"We'll be fine." He insists. 

"We won't have a fucking chance." I'm sad when I say it.

What I don't tell him is that I would fight to the death for him, but he knows that already. He just needs fucking reminding every five minutes. 

Armie puts his arms around me, drawing me in to kiss the top of my head.

"Are you going to forgive me for being such a shit earlier and believe me when I say, it wasn't about you?" He says softly.

Yeah, what was that about - I have to wonder - because everybody knows that when people claim, 'It's me', they always mean it's really about you. 

I want to say something, but don't. 

Turning my head to kiss his neck, I then pull his head down to kiss his mouth. 

Deeply.

Thoroughly. 

He returns the kiss as we stand there; in our own little world; two star crossed lovers embracing on the beach.  
__

"So why are you really out here?" He asks when we finally come up for air.

Fuck, I knew it would come up eventually. 

Reaching down to brush some of the moist, itchy sand off my legs, I gather myself to confess about the loss, something I'd rather not admit to, but time is of the essence and I could use an extra pair of eyes.

"I was taking a walk on the beach earlier and dropped my ring."

"A walk? By yourself?"

I nod, swinging my arms outward in a, you know me, I do weird shit, kind of way. 

Armie doesn't say anything at first, strolling along beside me, helping me scan the beach in what turns out to be a completely fruitless effort. 

But then as we return back to the dock, he calls to one of the staff who is loading boxes onto the boat. 

"Hey Kevin, we could use your help here." Armie says as he waves him over. 

It doesn't surprise me that Armie knows their names, he's always been more of a people person.

"Of course Sir." Kevin answers.

And they call him Sir.

I hide a smirk, thinking they really have no idea what 'Sir' means around Armie Hammer.  
__

Over an hour later and with the other two staff members helping, we have success. 

"Mr Armie!" One of the women calls out, holding up a shiny object. "I think we've found it." 

She hands my ring over to Armie and the staff finish up loading the boat before it whisks them away.  
__

"They call you Mr Armie?" I'm still snickering when he returns the ring to my left hand.

"Yeah. I told them to stop with the 'Mr Hammer this' and the 'Mr Hammer that' shit every fucking five seconds, it was getting tedious, so the women started calling me Mr Armie." 

"But Kevin calls you Sir."

"He's old school, and a former butler."

I give a low whistle, "A butler, we have a butler? Cool." 

Grabbing Mr Armie's left hand, I rub my fingertips over his own ring, then clasping his hand I swing it along as we walk up the beach towards the house.  
__

It's then that I ask the question that's been on my mind, "How come you went to the big island?" I don't add 'without telling me', but it's implied.

"My phone got a signal early this morning while I was on the dock. It was a business thing that couldn't wait." Armie explains. 

He's not really telling me everything but I'm okay with that. For now. At least he's talking.

"Do you really want to rehash everything from yesterday?" Obviously he doesn't. 

"No." I tell him. And mean it.

Too bad, that at the moment, it sounds a lot like Elio telling Oliver he's not going to hold any shit against him as he scrambles with whatever the fuck is going on in his lover's head. 

"Well you've got your ring back are you happy now?" Armie stops to rest his hands on my shoulders.

"Very." I lean back against him.

"Are we just going to stick with the one word answers?" He whispers in my ear.

I give him a withering look.

Armie steps aside, holding up one hand, "No, I really don't need an answer to that. But at least tell me we're done sniping at each other. We're only here for a few more days and frankly I'd rather be fucking you than fighting."

I nod, carefully schooling my expressions.

"And make-up sex is sooo hot." I flirt, batting my eyelashes at him. 

Flirting? 

Yeah, flirting.

"My dick is always hot for you." Armie laughs, grabbing the back of my jeans to pull me against him once more.

He quickly lets go as I bend to toss sand at him, yelling over my shoulder, "Race you!", before I make a run for the house.  
__

It's no contest really; those long legs eat up ground like nobody's business.

"You're a colossal freak of nature." I gasp, clutching my sides.

"Stop it. You'll make my dick limp."

"You sweet-talker you!" I retort when I can finally catch my breath.  
__

■ FRAGMENTS  
__

"So."

"So?" Armie questions.

"Are you going to tell me about your 'urgent business', or am I going to have to fuck it out of you?" I lean heavier onto him, his legs bent up and back against his chest.

"You'd use fucking as an interrogation technique? I can see it now, Illya is fucked by the bad guy until he coughs up State secrets."

"No." I tell him.

"No?" He looks perplexed. 

"No. Gay Illya gets fucked up the ass until he gives up State secrets."

"Ah, I see the difference." 

"Can you really?" I shove my dick deeper.

"Yeah. But we're not discussing it now. I'll tell you after you're done fucking me." He's right; we don't want a repeat of yesterday.

Was it just yesterday? My birthday? 

It seems like a lifetime ago.  
__

I decide it's time for him come clean as to why he became so irrational the other day; so with Armie stretched out flat on his back in all his post-orgasmic splendor, I begin a difficult conversation. 

"Okay," I put my chin on his chest, tilting my head sideways to gaze up at him. "State secrets?"

"State secrets." He repeats before choosing his words carefully.

"I have a past." He starts.

"Don't we all." I laugh, but it sounds hollow in the bigger scheme of things.

"Do you want to hear this or not?"

I nod, my chin digging deeper into his sternum.

"I was about twenty when I started experimenting with ropes and bdsm."

Oh shit, he's really going to tell me.

"I used to go to clubs. Sex clubs." He raises his head to look down at me but I remain silent. "Places most people would not go." His head flops back down.

I look at him from under my lashes, silently urging him to go on.

"But because there's a certain anonymity there, I liked it - a lot - and I learned a lot." He continues, staring up at the ceiling.

"You're very good at it." I tell him.

"It took practice, practice, practice but finally I got to Pigg-any Hall."

"Funny."

"Not so funny at the time. I wanted to sub first, find out what it was like, and when I felt I was ready, I wanted to train to Dominate; practicing on others." He says it simply; as if he was training to do cash at the supermarket.

"Did you like it?" I ask under my breath, certain he had only looked the rope shit up online.

"Which one?"

"Both." I want to know about both.

"What do you think?" He laughs, leaning up on one elbow.

I laugh too and tell him, "You should take me there sometime."

Armie gives me a look that clearly states, 'Are you fucking kidding me?' 

"Maybe." He concedes. But I know he won't.  
__

■ HEAT  
__

We take our time making love, not the hurried frenzy of the last few days, knowing these moments here on the island will end soon enough.

His lips touch me everywhere; soft nibbling kisses that excite and tickle at the same time. 

We've lit the fire this evening, taking refuge inside while the warm winds whip around the island; and as I cry out, the wind moans along with me. 

This reminds me of our first night here, and ultimately why we had to flee from his hotel. 

I try to wipe those thoughts from my mind because reality will loom down upon us quickly enough, and having Armie all to myself for almost twelve days has been as close to the magic we had in Crema as we've ever seen.

His body, illuminated in the firelight, also brings me back to the villa and those late evenings spent off set, away from the others. In his rooms or mine, that should have been cold and off-putting, but with our bodies at heightened passion, these stolen moments will be amongst the best reminiscences of our time in Italy.

I press my hands to his upper back, so warm from the flames licking at his flesh, the heat from his body warming me inside and out; and I know this will have to hold me until we can have our next clandestine rendezvous.  
__

■ FRECKLES  
__

"What are you doing?" I ask as his fingertips trace the bridge of my nose, my cheeks, curving down to press on my bottom lip.

I lick his finger, drawing it in to suck hard on his middle digit. I know where this is going, and where his finger is ultimately going.

"Mmm?" Armie's distracted. 

His finger comes out with a pop; his attention on his actions rather than what I'm saying.

What was I saying?

Oh yes, "What's with this?" I swipe my hand over my face.

"Freckles." He taps my nose.

"Freckles?"

"Yeah. You've been inside almost the entire time we've been here and yet you've got your freckles back."

"Fuck."

"I like them." He says bending to tenderly kiss each one.

I groan deeply as his cock moves inside me, my legs up and wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his back as he renews his rhythm. 

And I love, love, love how he fucks me. Any way he fucks me.

Sweet.

Hard.

Fast.

Slow.

And any combination of the above.

He comes deeply inside me, resting for a moment to gather himself before withdrawing to slide down my body.

He stops. Hovers. Then his mouth covers me. Envelopes me. 

Swallowing me down to the root as his finger slides inside to stir my passion once more. 

I cum again. Hard. So much so it almost hurts after coming so many times in succession.

"You okay?" He senses my discomfort. 

"You're so big. And you've practically worn me out... with your bigly-ness." I add.

Armie stretches out beside me. I think he's worn out too.

Straddling his body, I bend forward to study his face.

"I love your bigly-ness" I confess, although he already knows that.

"And sweetheart," he pulls me down to tenderly kiss my cheek, "you're so delicately beautiful that if you were any more," he pauses, and I wonder where he's going with this, "delicate," he kisses me again, "you'd make a fucking great spinner."

And then he laughs like a maniac. 

Oh my God! He went there!

I laugh, climbing off to playfully smack him on the chest. It makes a gratifying sound but he's rock hard. 

Everywhere. 

And I doubt he's even felt the impact as he grabs me, pinning me down to tickle my sides until I cry U.N.C.L.E.  
__  
__

"You never said what your business was that was so urgent." I remind Armie as he checks out what's been left in the frig for a midnight snack.

"It's a surprise." Armie grabs an open bottle of white and a small platter of fruit.

"More surprises? Don't tell me, you bought a private jet." I tease.

"Almost." He says, deadpan. 

"Fuck!"  
__

■ SURFACE  
__

We pack up what we brought with us to catch the launch back to Armie's hotel. Ten of our twelve days have gone by in a flash and it's time to face the music. Or pay the piper, or some such shit. Because no matter how you slice it, going back to that shit-show we left dangling, is not going to be easy.  
__  
__

Back in Armie's room, I'm paralyzed by the thought of turning on my phone. 

But Armie apparently is way ahead of the game and even the celebratory message from my mother is cordial while she and my sister sing happy birthday over the phone.

"Call me when you get home, sweetheart." She tells me as the message winds down. 

Armie sits quietly as I listen to the dulcet tones of my family harmonizing to my birthday song.

But something is up.

Okay, granted it was my birthday, but there is always some razzing involved, especially from my sister.

"That wasn't so bad." Armie sounds relieved. 

And I've got to say this sounds nothing like MY MOTHER in a crisis, and tell Armie so. 

"I spoke with her the other day." He admits.

What has he done? And what has he told my mother?

"When you came back here?" 

"Yes. She was worried but didn't seem to make a big deal about it."

"She's enamoured with you." I tell him.

Armie laughs, "You should hear what your sister had to say to me after I spoke to your mother."

"She can be scary sometimes. My mother too, when provoked."

"Well Pauline certainly is. She told me, and I quote, 'Fuck with my brother and I will hunt you down and fuck you up'." 

"My sister's over protective." 

He raises an eyebrow to say, no shit.  
__

I check my other messages, finding nothing alarming, mostly work stuff, as Armie goes on about my sister's violent tendencies.

I'm barely listening but what I get out of that, is that Armie has been in communication with my family, and that he's somehow calmed down the situation.

We're a situation.

"Did you listen to your own messages?" I ask.

"I did." He nods. "When I was here the other day."

"And?" It's like fucking pulling teeth.

"No one sang to me if that's what you're asking." He says, but reveals nothing more.  
__

The last messages from Brian are pretty much what I expected; although he's no longer yelling at me, in his final message he has graciously wished me happy birthday.  
__

■ DEPOSITS  
__

Oh Armie what have you done!

I'm at his desk, and with Armie nowhere in sight, I scan the last images on his computer screen. 

I'm not snooping, just checking to see what Brian and his crisis team have accomplished since we've been gone.

But there it is. 

To say I'm shocked is putting it mildly. 

There on the monitor is an agent's listing of his Los Angeles home.

I scroll down checking out images of decor and rooms I've only seen once.

It's beautifully done with much cleaner lines than when I was there.

"They dressed the rooms for me." Armie says, coming up from behind.

I almost jump out of my skin as he leans to kiss my shoulder. 

"A bunch of my shit is sitting in storage as we speak." He adds.

"Where will you go?" I'm almost afraid to ask.

"We'll I'm here for awhile, then Chicago for rehearsals, then the Big Apple in the spring."

New York City. 

Where I live. When I'm not doing a play in London, or sequestered on projects in the middle of nowhere.

"Are you looking for places in LA?"

"No. Not there."

Please say New York. Please say New York. 

"That's something I want to talk to you about."

Armie changes the screen and up pops pictures of a loft. A beautiful and expansive looking loft. High ceilings, open concept, magnificent views....

Of Central Park. 

"This," he sounds so reverent, "is why I had to leave the other day. The owner's moving to Europe and is willing to drop the price for a quick sale."

"You're buying it?" I'm in awe.

"Yep." He purses his lips, trying to avoid laughing at my amazement. 

"You'll be close to me." 

Well really not. But in the same city is good.

"Not just close." Armie says. "The same address if you want."

I can't breathe.

Want! 

Fuck want. 

I need this. We need this.  
__

■ KARMA  
__

My flight, which leaves in a couple of hours, will take me home to my small and thoroughly unimaginative apartment in New York City before I have to fly back to LA for the Oscars. But by then Armie will be in Chicago, ensconced in rehearsals for his own play and we will be doing the two ships that pass in the night thing all over again.

I don't know why we make things so fucking hard.  
__

"Anything else you need before you leave?"

"I think I'm good." I tell him. But I'm not. I'm sad because Armie is helping me pack the last of my stuff I have left in his hotel room.

"Don't expect me to overnight shit you've left behind because you've forgotten your shoes again."

I concede he's got a point; then remember I'm an adult and taking care of myself is my job, not his.

"I'll pay the shipping charges." I insist.

"Of course you will." He's so fucking smug when he says it.

I frown, keeping to myself his teal sweater that's hidden at the bottom of my bag. It's so fucking hot here; he'll never miss it until he gets to Chicago.

"What?"

"I hate when you laugh at or talk down to me." It's the truth and a subtle diversion. 

"Do I do that?" He nods. "I'm sorry if it makes you feel that way."

"I do. Feel that way, I mean." I don't want to start that 'I do - I don't' thing again.

"Would punching me help? You wanted to hit me earlier, go ahead and take your best shot." Armie has a big grin on his face; he's so fucking smug, and irresistible sometimes.

I check out his rock hard abs.

"Nah, maybe next time." 

Now he's laughing at me. 

"But if you're up for it I'd like one last fuck." I continue thinking we can squeeze one more for the road. 

"To tide me over." I add, in case he's going to say no.

"There's no time. Your plane is waiting. A rain-check then?"

"Sure", I tell him. Not really sure at all if I really wanted to hit him anymore, even if he's giving me a free shot, but I definitely want to fuck him. 

But one thing I am sure of is, that I will feel like smacking him again sometime in the future. And I'm not going to apologize then either. But I may have to explain shit.  
__

■ Fucking déjà vu all over again  
__

We sit in the limo. 

He's rented a limo! 

Some place we can have a private goodbye - where there's no audience and no fucking cameras. 

Holding on to Armie, I repeat the words I've said once before; but what was said back then, was never so personal as now.

And this time it's me leaving.

"I don't want to go." I whisper, almost near tears.

There is a cross between a hitch and a sob in my voice that exemplifies how emotional I am. 

God I feel like my world is coming apart. 

Armie holds me tighter. 

The seconds tick by as I try not to make so much of a scene.

Fuck it.

I'm making a scene.  
__  
__

Sitting on the flight home, my hoodie pulled up even though it's warm in the cabin; my body language clearly states - let me be - leave me alone.

Armie had given me one more surprise before I exited the limo; kissing me deeply as he purposely holds onto my hand, "I made you your own copy." He tells me, sliding a key into my palm.

A key to his place.

He fucking gave me a key to his place, and with the papers signed and the title transfered, I now know he has saved this little gift for my departure. 

Fuck little. IT'S HUGE. 

And if I didn't know better, I'd say this winter getaway wasn't just a vacation, it was a honeymoon.  
__

So with this rollercoaster of emotions. 

This back and forth, inside and out. 

We've fucking endured through it all.

And we're better, stronger. 

And nothing can change how we feel for each other. 

Nothing can break us apart.  
__

Armie hasn't just given me the moon and the stars-

He has given me heaven and earth and the whole fucking galaxy. 

And I have his key.  
__

Fuck 'his' key. 

It's mine.  
___  
___

■ FIN - HOTEL 00-6 EARTH  
___

**Author's Note:**

> HOTEL SERIES Index  
> HOTEL Series are considered CHARMIE fiction 📌  
> ___
> 
> □ HOTEL SERIES  
> □ 1.0 London Layover   
> □ 2.0 A Massage to Remember  
> __
> 
> □ HOTEL SERIES 3  
> □3.1 MO-RE-AL Part  
> □ 3.2 MO-RE-AL Part  
> __
> 
> □ HOTEL SERIES 4.0 SUCCOR - The Man who won't be Bat  
> __
> 
> □ HOTEL SERIES 5.1 - 5.2 Cannes - Cannes Revisited  
> __
> 
> □ HOTEL SERIES 6.1 - 6.3  
> □ 6.1 CASA DEL CHALAMET  
> □ 6.2 CASA DEL CHALAMET - Don't Tread on Me   
> □ 6.3 CASA DEL CHALAMET - Fool Me Once - Don't Mock Me  
> __
> 
> 🏆The 0 Series is an Origin series that is told in a series of flashbacks  
> 🏆HOTEL 0 (1) Sundance - January 2017  
> 🏆HOTEL 0 (2) TIFF17-18-19  
> 🏆HOTEL 0 (3) Awards Season - The Oscars  
> ___
> 
> 🌴HOTEL 00 Series takes place in Hawaii - December 2019  
> 🌴HOTEL 00-1 Tis the Season - 1. Paradise  
> 🌴HOTEL 00-2 WATER  
> 🌴HOTEL 00-3 FIRE  
> 🌴HOTEL 00-4 AIR  
> 🌴HOTEL 00-5 VOID 1 -2  
> 🌴HOTEL 00-6 EARTH  
> ____
> 
> 🗽HOTEL 7 is part of the NYC Series taking place during the pandemic  
> 🗽HOTEL 7.1 (a) NY to London - NY Minute  
> 🗽HOTEL 7.1 (b) Minute by Minute - London to NY  
> 🗽HOTEL 7.2 (a) MOVING FORWARD - One Step Forward, Two Steps Back  
> 🗽HOTEL 7.2 (b) A Cop, A Pirate and a twink walk into a bar....  
> 🗽HOTEL 7.3 (a) Part 1 - PROUD   
> 🗽HOTEL 7.3 (b) Part 2 - PASSAGES   
> 🗽HOTEL 7.4 (a) Part 1 - PANACEA - One Raccoon, Two Raccoon  
> 🗽HOTEL 7.4 (b) Part 2 - PANACEA - Tabloid Shit-Storm  
> 🗽HOTEL 7.5 (a) Part 1 - Panic in the Streets - Eggs for Breakfast  
> 🗽HOTEL 7.5 (b) Part 2 - Pushing the Envelope - The Hell We've been Thrown into  
> ___
> 
> ■ HOTEL 8 - HOTEL California is currently a work in progress


End file.
